


HSM: Pretty in Pink

by roseclaw



Category: High School Musical
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-01
Updated: 2010-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-13 11:40:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseclaw/pseuds/roseclaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wing!fic!</p>
            </blockquote>





	HSM: Pretty in Pink

  
  
  
  
**Entry tags:**   
|   
[chad danforth](http://autonomyanatomy.livejournal.com/tag/chad%20danforth), [fic](http://autonomyanatomy.livejournal.com/tag/fic), [hsm](http://autonomyanatomy.livejournal.com/tag/hsm), [rating: pg-13](http://autonomyanatomy.livejournal.com/tag/rating%3A%20pg-13), [ryan evans](http://autonomyanatomy.livejournal.com/tag/ryan%20evans), [slash](http://autonomyanatomy.livejournal.com/tag/slash)  
  
---|---  
  
_**HSM: Pretty in Pink**_  
 **Fandom:** High School Musical  
 **Pairing:** Ryan/Chad  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Word Count:** 1,224  
 **Spoilers:** nope  
 **Warnings:** Self-indulgent wing!fic! Nothing more.  
 **A/N:** Quick beta by [](http://saekokato.livejournal.com/profile)[**saekokato**](http://saekokato.livejournal.com/), because she's awesome and lets me do crazy things to characters. Takes place during HSM2.  
 **Disclaimer:** Belongs to Disney and Ortega.  
 **Disclaimer 2:** I do not condone the use of any conjugation of the verb “to get” in place of any conjugation of the verb “to be.”  
 **Summary:** Wing!fic!

Chad had no idea why Ryan had worn all white to a baseball game. A baseball game played in the red sandstone. There was absolutely no way to preserve the integrity of the white. Not unless the Evanses had an amazing washing machine. Or more likely, they had an amazing dry cleaner. Both of which were entirely possible. But seriously. White. At a baseball game. It made no sense – like Ryan himself. Chad had no idea what to think about Ryan. It gave him a headache when he tried. Because seriously: white at a baseball game.

It wasn’t until the locker room afterward when Ryan realized how he had ruined his clothing. He grimaced at himself in the bathroom mirror until Chad made the stupid suggestion to switch clothing. Ryan would still be wearing stained clothes, but at least they were clothes that were meant to be stained. And way too big on Ryan, but Chad kinda liked the way that Ryan was wearing his clothing, no matter how ruthlessly Ryan teased Chad about going into the bathroom stall to change. Everyone teased Chad about that. He was used to it.

Chad had tried to change once in the locker room proper – maybe it was when he was in sixth grade? – and people had asked uncomfortable questions about the scars on Chad’s back. Chad didn’t like to talk about his scars.

Ryan later gossiped about it to Gabriella of all people, who exclaimed, “Troy mocks him about it all the time.”

Yeah.

However, Troy knew of Chad’s scars, but he wouldn’t be like a brother if he didn’t rag on Chad about it.

Before Chad knew what was happening, he and his friends were in a dance studio with Ryan Evans shouting out strange words that Chad found himself horrified at for understanding.

During a break, while Chad was catching his breath in the locker room, Ryan approached him. Chad could see an uncomfortable moment coming from a mile away. Hell, this was a hundred miles away.

“Your scars,” Ryan mumbled.

Chad blanched. There was no way that Ryan could have seen Chad’s scars. Sure he was wearing a wifebeater, but those hid the scars nicely.

“It’s like Fight Club,” Chad explained as lightly as he could. It sounded a bit forced even to his own ears. “We don’t talk about it.”

Ryan’s face twisted into some horrific grimace. Ryan’s face should never look like that. Like Ryan was in pain.

“I have scars, too,” Ryan said quietly and removed his shirt.

Chad almost missed what Ryan had said. Almost. There was a lot of pale skin that Ryan had exposed. Ryan was a lot leaner than Chad had expected. He’d expected a little waif of a boy, but Ryan had a lot of taut muscle. That Chad shouldn’t have been staring at.

“Oh,” Chad said dumbly.

And Ryan’s space erupted in a flurry of feathers.

“Oh,” Chad repeated.

“Troy described your scars,” Ryan explained as his wings settled. Ryan’s wings. They were glossy and white, and they looked perfectly framing Ryan. It looked natural. It was natural.

“Oh,” Chad said again. Troy would do it, not thinking about how sometimes Chad liked to keep private things private.

Ryan frowned at him, and the wings snapped back in a ridged line.

Chad reached out to touch Ryan’s wings without even thinking about it. The need to touch was reflexive. Chad had never seen someone else’s wings. In fact, he hadn’t even known anyone else _had_ wings.

Ryan’s wings were smooth under Chad’s fingers as he traced the main bone. The feathers were warm, and Chad loved the feel. They felt different from his own.

Ryan hummed contently and tugged at the hem of Chad’s shirt. “I’ve shown you mine.”

Chad took a step away from Ryan, and the material of Chad’s shirt slipped from Ryan’s fingers. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Ryan frowned again and then looked unbelievably hurt.

“No, it’s not – ” Chad stumbled over his words. Ryan had no idea why Chad didn’t want to expose his wings. But… Ryan had trusted Chad enough to expose his own wings, then… “Okay,” Chad relented.

Chad slowly removed his wifebeater.

He turned his back to Ryan to put his shirt down on a bench, and Ryan caught him by the arm. Ryan then slowly traced Chad’s scars.

“I’ve never seen someone else’s scars before,” Ryan said in awe as Chad suppressed a shiver. Chad hadn’t known his scars were so sensitive.

“Ryan,” Chad said slowly.

Ryan hummed in acknowledgement, but he continued to trace up and down the scars between Chad’s shoulder blades. Chad shivered again, and goose bumps formed on his arms.

“Ryan,” Chad repeated. He didn’t like how breathy he sounded. Or how desperate.

“Please show me,” Ryan whispered.

Chad turned around to face Ryan. Ryan’s eyes were dark, and he wouldn’t meet Chad’s eye.

“Someone will come looking for us soon,” Chad warned. “You did say only five minutes.”

“When neither of us show up, they’ll understand,” Ryan said.

Chad had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

“Please show me,” Ryan repeated. He finally looked Chad in the eye, and Chad couldn’t refuse. He didn’t remember how to refuse.

Chad released his wings. They didn’t explode from his back like Ryan’s had: they slowly unfurled.

Ryan reached out to touch Chad’s wings like Chad had done earlier.

“Oh,” Ryan breathed out. He moved his fingertips along the grain of the feathers and then against.

Chad closed his eyes at the touch. It wasn’t like when he touched his wings, either. It was alien. It also felt damn good.

Without realizing what had happened, Chad found himself face-first into the cool surface of a locker with Ryan standing directly behind him, between Chad’s wings. Ryan’s hands were at the base of Chad’s wing, stroking the skin of Chad’s back and massaging the joint where the wing erupts from Chad’s back.

It felt so damn good.

A moan echoed through the locker room, and Chad was embarrassed that it was his. But that wasn’t as embarrassing as the fact that Chad was dry humping the locker. His hips snapped and hit the locker every so often.

Through his hazy mind, Chad registered that Ryan was totally taking advantage of Chad. In the middle of the locker room. Chad was definitely okay with that. Although, he wasn’t sure about the etiquette for reciprocating.

“Ryan!”

Sharpay’s screech broke through Chad’s happy daze.

Ryan pulled away from Chad. “We’ll continue this later,” he said as his wings retracted and he rushed out of the locker room, quickly pulling his shirt back on.

“Evans!” Chad called after him. “Thanks!”

Ryan turned around to give Chad a highly sardonic look.

“I mean for - Yes, for the massage, that was amazing, but for not asking about the color of my wings.”

Ryan gave Chad a brief smile as he plucked one of the bright pink feathers from Chad’s left wing and stuck it into the band of his straw fedora. Then he left the room.

Chad sat down heavily on a bench and pulled his wings back into his body in case someone found him. He looked down into his lap. He’d need to take care of that, too.

End!


End file.
